There are no headstones, no visible enclosure, and no surface trace of burials. What survives instead is the barest skeleton of a medieval church, its walls reduced to foundation level in places, the stones themselves a mixture of limestone and greywacke. The surrounding land is open and level, with wide views in every direction, which only adds to the quiet strangeness of standing somewhere that was once, according to historical record, a place of considerable religious significance.

According to Gwynn and Hadcock, writing in 1988, the site marks an early monastic foundation established by St. Bearchan in the seventh century, placing its origins in the earliest period of Irish Christianity. The church whose remains still faintly mark the ground was a nave and chancel structure, meaning it was divided into two connected spaces, the nave for the congregation and the chancel at the east end for the clergy and altar. When the antiquary Comerford recorded it in 1883, the building measured forty-five feet in length with walls four feet thick, the nave about sixteen feet wide internally and the chancel somewhat narrower at ten and a half feet. Even then, he noted no architectural features worth describing and no headstones to speak of. Today even less survives: fragments of the east wall at foundation level, portions of the north and south walls, and part of the dividing wall between nave and chancel. Close by to the south-east stands St. Broghan's stone, a bullaun stone, which is a type of stone with a deliberately hollowed depression, often associated with early Christian sites and sometimes used for grinding or ritual purposes. This particular example is now broken, but the shallow depression it retains was said by Comerford to have been formed by the impression of the saint's head, and it was reportedly used as a cure for headaches.